


Ninja Solo

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, despite all her training in manipulating and controlling people, it seemed just too easy to get Ziva all riled up and bothered enough to throw around curses in her mother tongue. Notice that the rating is there for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere after 8x05 "Dead Air" but no spoilers, just for the chemistry. Written for the "merry month of masturbation" over on LJ.

Sometimes, despite all her training in manipulating and controlling people, it seemed just too easy to get Ziva all riled up and bothered enough to throw around curses in her mother tongue.

Not as easy as it had been in the old days, granted. Apparently her weekly psych sessions included a good deal of anger management (which would not do much good if she ever found out just how much Tony knew about her Monday evening appointments simply because he had dated her shrink's secretary once and for some freaky reason she still thought of him fondly). But Ziva still had a day every now and then when she came to work in a kind of pre-itchy state of mind, all jumpy, easily annoyed and with her fingers twitching more than they usually did.

On these days, it was scarily easy for Tony to get under her skin, and yeah, deep down inside he knew it wasn't a particularly sane thing to do, but he still wasn't able to fight the urge. It was kind of a Pavlovian thing: Itchy Ziva triggered his reflexes to make her even more itchy. He simply liked to see her unravel, and he loved to be the reason her calm and hard-assed exterior showed a few dents and cracks by the end of the day.

It had been a slight surprise for him when he had found early on that the best way to get to her on these days was actually getting as close to her as possible. Hard to imagine that Ziva, Miss No-Regard-For-Personal-Space, was actually quite easily bothered by Tony leaning in just a little too close or his cheek almost brushing hers while he leaned over her shoulder to look at something. It brought his old game of touch'n'run to a whole new level.

On some days -- much like this particular one -- Ziva walked into the office all grouchy and sparse with words, which always got worse if they were stuck at their desks doing paperwork. On these days, Ziva would type and delete and type again, and then she would pause for a minute before she would repeat the same routine a few times more. On these days, Tony would soon neglect his own paperwork in favor of watching her intently, waiting for the moment when she would snap, and he knew all too well that each glance he shot her way would bring that moment closer.

"Mind your own business, Tony," she eventually ground out through gritted teeth while she seemed to delete the whole report and started it all over again for the third time.

"Oh, honey," he said with a wide grin and shook his head. "You know me, I never do that." He flipped the pages of his own report -- the one he'd been putting off for at least two weeks -- and pretended to check for last-minute errors while he actually basked in his own smirk and Ziva's itchiness.

There was no answer, and when he looked up curiously, he saw Ziva rub the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She had her eyes tightly shut now, and for a moment she looked so tired and drained that he wondered if he'd taken the game a little too far. He felt the irrational urge to offer a back rub or maybe even cover for her while she went out for a few hours to shop 'til she dropped. Even a non-girly girl like Ziva always felt pretty good after that, and whatever would help her relax a little didn't sound like such a bad idea all of a sudden.

"What's up?" he asked, and she reacted to the sudden seriousness in his voice and met his eyes across the gap between their desks.

He might have gotten an answer if Gibbs hadn't chosen this exact moment to stride into the squad room and barked at them to grab their gear. When Tony glanced back at Ziva, she was already busy with slipping on her jacket and avoiding his gaze again.

*** *** ***

Petty Officer Henderson had apparently vanished after a very loud and hands-on fight with a fellow officer, who was now out cold in Bethesda after she had pummeled him with a lead pipe. (Tony had tried several times to make a Clue joke about this, but had never gotten very far because everybody steadfastly refused to react in any way.)

Henderson was -- according to her neighbor -- a rather quiet woman he'd rarely seen. He'd also described her and her lifestyle as rather plain, and so it came as a mild surprise when her bedroom was far from that and instead revealed satin sheets, low-temperature candles for wax play and a few accessories that made McGee blush furiously and drew a low whistle from Tony. Which, in turn, made Ziva give him a glare that actually managed to raise the hairs at the back of his neck. Strangely, he wasn't entirely sure if he should classify this as one of the unpleasant sensations.

"So, Ziva," he said after McGee had excused himself with a flimsy lie and left processing of the bedroom to them, "you think our Petty Officer was the rompee or the romped in this epic scenario of carnal desires?"

Ziva had just bent down to snap a few shots of wax stains beside... well, other stains. She didn't react on the outside. Her breathing remained all calm and controlled, but he still saw a sudden tension in her stance, and he could have sworn a fresh wave of annoyance had just rolled off her.

"What does it matter who was on top, Tony?"

He grinned while he ran his gloved finger over the top of a small cabinet, leaving a trail in the faint dust covering. "It matters to the pretty pictures in my head."

Ziva straightened and lowered the camera, and for some reason she suddenly made it a point to not look at him while she walked around the bed. "You do know that at one point you will need to get past puberty, yes?"

"Ziva, Ziva, Ziva," he muttered. When she just shot him a glance and frowned, he grinned and sauntered over to her to look over her shoulder, pretending to look for clues along with her while he actually used the new closeness to press his fingertips against the small of her back for a moment, just to see how she would react this time. "You really need to relax a bit. Like, get laid. I'm told it takes off the pressure."

For the fraction of a heartbeat Ziva stood perfectly still and allowed him to touch her. Then she turned and faced him, and it was weird that the sudden fury in her eyes made him take a step back involuntarily... and sent a hot rush of excitement through him at the same time.

She stared at him with narrowed eyes and brows drawn tightly together, and he knew that right now she weighed different answers in her head while she scrutinized him. Finally, her chin rose in a weirdly defiant way, and she settled for, "What makes you think I'm _not_ getting laid?"

Part of him knew he should back off if she glared at him like that. That it was a bad idea to get Ziva angry in the first place and an almost suicidal one to keep teasing her when she was already short-tempered. But the part of him that got excited by the heat flaring up in her eyes and came up with thoughts about sliding his hands under her clothes and pressing up to her in return... that part was trapped in the urge to tease even more of a reaction out of her. And that part of him _did_ feel a little suicidal today, yes.

"You just told me," he grinned, and while Ziva's frown deepened and she pressed her lips shut angrily, he leaned back into her and brought his mouth down to her cheek so he could murmur the real punch line into her ear. "Besides, I can smell it."

It was weird to see her head whip around and have her freeze halfway through the motion because he was still too close and he didn't back away even when her lips almost brushed his. Her nostrils flared, and for a heartbeat she met his eyes before her gaze dropped to his cheekbone. And yeah, it sent a fresh rush through him to see that she wasn't backing off, either. This kind of game, this was what they did best, really. And it was kind of perfect that none of them had won so far.

"It's true," he said, still in her space, still way too close for common decency. "Sexually frustrated women, they just carry that certain scent, you know? That little extra spice that tells the whole world _'God, I'm so horny I could hump a tree!'."_

Her face closed down so hard and fast that it widened his grin into something obnoxious, and he almost laughed out loud. Even Gibbs walking up to him and asking him what the fuck he was doing instead of his job couldn't kill his suddenly bright and sparkly mood, and so he turned with his best charmer's smile and replied cheerfully, "Just educating my Probie, Boss!"

It earned him a roll of the eyes from Gibbs and a sharp stab in the side from Ziva's fingers, but neither did anything to deflate his mood.

*** *** ***

Processing the evidence from Petty Officer Henderson's apartment would turn into the beginning of a very long and unnerving day for Ziva because after he had gotten his first whiff of vulnerability, Tony began to follow her around like a bloodhound with his nose glued to the trail.

He soon found that it didn't take all that much to unravel her. Most of the time it was enough to give her a tiny sniff every now and then, followed by a knowing smirk, and just like that she would glare at him and her eyes would darken in annoyance.

At least he thought it was annoyance. Until he stared at her screen one time and did it over her shoulder, of course, because it gave him yet another opportunity to lean into her much more than absolutely necessary.

This time, though, she didn't evade him. She leaned back against him instead, just like that, as if they always did that, all the time. He first fought the urge to back away himself and then the one to bury his face in her neck and inhale her scent. When he turned his head to look at her profile, he found her pretending to concentrate on her screen.

And yeah, he should have known it was only a matter of time until she fought back just as dirty. He just wasn't sure yet if he should feel nervous about this or anticipatory.

*** *** ***

The weird thing was, before he let his breath caress her neck and watched her skin tighten in delicious response, he hadn't even noticed how close to the truth his needling actually was. He'd thought of it as an easy way to get under her skin, and yeah, her reaction had told him clearly there probably was a grain of truth in his assumption, but for some reason it had taken him much longer to realize that she _really_ needed to get laid. That Ziva, who usually held herself under such tight control that it was eerie, clearly had an itch to scratch today, and that itch rendered her more cranky with every passing minute.

And now, as he turned his head and sniffed her cheek while he murmured his comment against it, he found that his own side of the equation hadn't been too far off either: He'd always sensed which ones were the easy prey. Which ones needed it more than he did.

Yeah, he knew what a horny woman smelled like. And Ziva's special flavor, not tainted by anything artificial or perfume, suddenly provoked the urge to lick her all over and then roll around in her scent, even though he knew that she would never, not in a million years, be one of the easy ones. Not even in a state like this.

Maybe that was the reason her scent began to drive him nuts after a while.

*** *** ***

He considered it the universe's Very Special revenge that they were called back the very second they had set foot into the elevator to go home. Later, he would curse McGee for turning up this lead. Damn him, really. The Probie should know the right moment to give it a rest by now, right? All these years working with him and he hadn't learned a thing from Tony.

Of course, once he'd started moaning about not getting home yet, things got progressively worse and quickly went from merely making a few calls and checking statements to setting up shop in a dinky apartment for an all-night stakeout with Ziva. 

Correction -- an all-night stakeout with a tired Ziva whose itch was still unscratched and whom her partner had sufficiently annoyed all day. Oh boy.

*** *** ***

The backup apartment Petty Officer Henderson had rented under a false name wasn't in the best part of town, so it was cheap, but still provided a roof in case of emergencies or activities to hide.

Unfortunately, this description could also be applied to the hole that doubled as their stakeout shelter.

It took Tony exactly two glances -- one left, one right -- to take in the whole of the apartment, and what he saw made his mood sink to a new low. A bathroom (thank God), a single bed (twin size, no kidding) that had most likely been in this room since the 70s, and a wicker chair that matched the faux retro design and looked uncomfortable and creaky even from the other end of the room. 

_One_ chair. 

Oh, this just got better and better.

"I'm not going to sleep here," he announced with clear disgust ringing in his voice while Ziva dropped her backpack unceremoniously and unzipped her jacket.

McGee, who was still busy setting up the camera and the microphone, shot Tony a quick glance and raised an eyebrow at him. "You know you're not supposed to sleep on stakeout, Tony?"

"Shut up, Probie," Tony ground out and shot Ziva a glare when her soft laughter rolled down his back. " _You_ get to go home and sleep in your own bed, and we don't even have a second chair! Do you perhaps see the tiniest bit of injustice in this? Do you?"

"Will keep you on your toes, DiNozzo," Gibbs mumbled behind him, and while Tony yelped in surprise and clutched his heart dramatically, Ziva chuckled again.

*** *** ***

Two hours further into the night she wasn't laughing anymore. She was much closer to strangling Tony.

She didn't show it, of course. She just sat in her creaky chair and flipped the pages of her book and sometimes leaned over to the camera and gave a quick peek at the very uninhabited apartment across the street.

But below the calm and relaxed exterior he saw her tense minutely every time he came a little too close while he was pacing back and forth, and after a while he noticed that she even stopped reading for a second whenever he moved back towards the window and thus, closer to her.

It caught his attention. And it made him, maybe, a little suicidal again.

He kept pacing behind her, from the foot end of the bed towards the window and back, but now he made it a point to brush past the chair a little closer each time. Sometimes he even touched the backrest, and it sent a tiny rush through him when he saw her shoulders stiffen each time he did it.

He hadn't even planned on annoying her tonight. He just felt trapped in this never-ending investigation, and teasing his partner seemed to be, like it often did, the perfect outlet for his own frustrations. And it offered him a much-needed distraction because it allowed him to concentrate on her.

In the end, she snapped when he got so bored that he leaned over her from behind. He put his hands to the armrests, right behind her elbows, and Ziva took a slow breath while she tensed up in the almost-embrace. He snuck a quick peek at her book -- Hebrew, of course, but that didn't deter him, he just asked her, "Whatcha reading?"

Whatever reaction he might have expected from her, it had certainly not been the one he got.

Ziva slammed her book shut hard, and he blinked and watched her when she took a few slow and carefully controlled breaths. She'd closed her eyes now, and her lips were pressed together so hard that they formed a dangerously thin line. 

For a moment he actually thought about backing away. But that would have left him as bored as he'd been before, and he had just gotten to the point where he'd found something new to play with, so letting it go now instead of worrying it would have been... a challenge. And so he ended up pushing his luck a tiny bit further and leaned over her more, waiting for her to snap.

She didn't, yet. Instead her nostrils flared because she suddenly couldn't help breathing him in, and he froze in mid-movement, staring at her in surprise as a barely noticeable blush colored her cheeks. Now that was... interesting.

But before he could try and make something out of it, she breathed out again in a long almost-sigh. "Tony," she said quietly, her eyes still closed. "Take a nap."

He stayed where he was, glued to the back of the chair, drowning her in his presence. "I'm not supposed to sleep on stakeout," he reminded her softly, his words hardly more than a sigh against her neck. And once more her skin tightened in response and the tiny hairs at the base of her neck rose to meet his breath.

"Go to sleep," she repeated, pronouncing each word sharply and distinctly, and yeah, he was pretty sure she was fighting for control right now, only he wasn't sure what exactly she would do to him once she lost it. "Or I'll make you sleep."

For a heartbeat he was tempted to keep toying with her. Then he reminded himself that he'd be stuck with her for a few more hours at least. No fun in getting killed before he'd even warmed up.

*** *** ***

The mattress was most likely older than the shabby bed itself, and he could have sworn that it poked him with its springs out of sheer spite. Tony settled into a somewhat comfortable spot -- or rather, one that didn't abuse his back. Finding one that didn't smell like dust and old people was harder, but eventually he managed that, too.

The wicker chair creaked softly, and he rolled to his side and watched Ziva raise her hand to turn yet another page. She had pulled the chair closer to the bed, which left her in the perfect position to watch both him to her left and the camera and window to her right. Probably a leftover from the days where she'd had to watch her own back the whole time. 

He blinked sleepily and took in her profile. The soft light coming from the nightstand made her cheeks look flushed and put a shine into her eyes, and when she licked her lips, he suddenly wanted to reach out and run his thumb across her mouth, just to see if she would feel as soft as she looked right now.

Ziva didn't raise her eyes once. She just kept reading, even though he was pretty sure she was more than aware of the way he looked at her. Her eyes flicked across the pages, back and forth, and for a while it looked strange because her eyes kept going from right to left. But the longer he watched her, the more comfortable he felt with her beside his bed like that.

She was close enough that he could have reached out and touched her knee if he'd wanted to, and he thought that it looked like she was about to read him a bedtime story.

*** *** ***

Later, he wouldn't even remember falling asleep, even though it had clearly happened at one point because suddenly his mind gave a jerk and his body followed. His eyes snapped open, and his heart pounded away a mile a minute because something was different -- _very_ different.

For a moment he just lay there, on his side, just like he'd been before closing his eyes, and while he blinked slowly, he tried to figure out what was going on. Then her scent hit him, and his nostrils flared as he drank in the flavor that had spiked to new heights while he had dozed off.

He stared at her curiously, how she had her eyes closed and her head turned to the side and resting against the wickerwork. Her neck was taut, her muscles twitching slightly -- a strange tension that spread through her whole body. 

One strand of hair had come loose from her ponytail, and he stared at it, how it was tucked behind her ear and tickling her neck. Her book lay on the floor, and for a second he thought she had fallen asleep herself and was caught in the kind of dream that sent his imagination into overdrive. He stared at her with suddenly wide eyes and heart beating in his throat. 

God, she smelled like a wet dream.

He licked his lips as he felt his own body react hard and fast to the slight quiver in her lips. To the rush of blood coloring her cheeks. To the tiny beads of sweat on her brow while she suddenly tensed and her body arched up in the chair, still not making the slightest creak in it, and dear god, she wasn't asleep at all. She was wide awake, just like he was, and she was merely taking extra special care not to make a sound because her hand, the one he couldn't see because the chair's arm rest was in the way, that hand was down her pants and making her happy.

His cock strained against his pants suddenly, and he bit back a gasp because, really, the thought of Ziva David taking matters into her own hands was enough on its own to make a lot of people lose it, but her doing it while she thought he was asleep beside her... 

Her left hand tightened on the arm rest now, and her body arched and then turned to the side, just a little, as if she were curling up into someone's embrace. Her lips made little gasping motions with each breath now, just that, just the motions and row after row of tension rolling through her. Not a single sound fell from her lips, and Tony bit his lip to keep quiet like her because anything else would make her stop. She looked like she was so close now, so close that her lower lip trembled continuously and her neck was stretched tight, and god, she--

His body throbbed with need, and he strained his ears, willing his senses to give him more than what had most likely been a mere figment of his imagination. There was no way he could have heard her fingers parting her flesh and sliding into her when he couldn't even hear her breathe, right?

His mouth was dry, and he fought the urge to reach out for her. His pulse stampeded in his temples when he saw her elbow give a tiny jerk, just enough for a glimpse of what was going on, but not really showing him any of it. 

And god, he wanted to see her. Wanted to see her fingers at work, all slick and busy with getting her off. And fuck, yes, he really wanted to join the fun.

She suddenly arched up, and for a moment, she stayed like that, her head thrown back, her body drawn tight like a bow close to snapping. Her hand stopped moving, too, and he knew she was just pressing down hard now, just riding the high for all it was worth. Her lower lip had that telltale tremble again, twitching like a butterfly's wing, and he stared at her, awed and horny and wanting her. He had no idea how she did it -- how she could come like this and not spill a single sound.

And that was when it really hit him -- when he was lying there, so hard it was nearing painful, yearning to touch himself, too -- that now he knew what she looked like when she came. And that he would remember it.

Oh, fuck.

He wasn't sure if he'd said it out loud or if his aching, needy body had betrayed him after all and shifted on the bed or if she just opened her eyes because that was what she'd have done anyway. Whatever the reason, when she fell back in her seat and almost curled up in it, so sated and breathless, her eyelids fluttered, and then she turned her head and looked at him. 

God, the expression in her face -- all relaxed and giddy and a bit feverish, too, as if this had been good, but just the first taste and she'd be ready to keep going at a moment's notice.

His cock jumped when he saw the exact moment she connected the dots, and while her gaze danced all over his body, he really tried to close his eyes and pretend he was still asleep and hadn't seen a thing, even if it was way too late for that, even if she knew already, because that was what they always did, right? Pretend they hadn't noticed what was going on, even when it was right in their faces?

It sounded like the right thing to do. Only this time, he couldn't pretend with her, and so he didn't and met her eyes instead, his own wide and shocked and the slightest bit thrilled.


	2. Room With A View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony... gets his. ;)

At first he thought he actually did a pretty good job. Thought he didn't give away how much her unintentional show had affected him. How his pulse pounded in his ears and his dick strained against his pants and how much his own hands itched to join hers and make her go for another round, right now. 

She didn't kill him outright, after all. Didn't say anything, didn't even frown, so maybe, just maybe, they could both clear their throats now and then go about their job and pretend this had all never happened, like they usually did.

But then something flared up in her eyes, and Tony licked his lips involuntarily because he simply knew she had just moved her fingertips again, and it had sent a fresh round of lust through her. And now she suddenly looked at him all expectantly, as if she'd just called his bluff and still dared him to raise, and why the fuck was his mind coughing up poker analogies while he was thinking about ripping the clothes off his partner?

He bit back a groan and tried not to think about how her scent still teased his nose and tickled his imagination just the right way. Her appreciative glance didn't help, either, especially when it settled on the bulge in his pants, and he silently cursed the fact that this hole of an apartment didn't have any blankets to hide his predicament. 

He desperately tried to get his body to calm down. Tried to insist this was no big deal. Nothing that couldn't be taken care of easily, a minute in the shower and that would be it. (God, he hoped this place had a shower at least.)

Except that it suddenly turned into the biggish kind of deal, after all, when she let go of the chair's arm rest and raised her left hand to reach out for him. She wasn't close enough to actually touch him, but his cock still jumped when she traced the line of his thigh in the air and then let her hand hover, fingers flexing as if she wanted to cup him.

"Do you need a hand with that?" she asked. Her voice was no more than a hushed murmur, but he still flinched, torn between feeling guilty and indescribably horny.

The guilt finally won out. "No," he pressed through his teeth while he tried to get the almost painful throbbing down to a bearable level. "I got it."

He breathed out slowly to let go of the tension that forced his body into this state of extreme awareness, and he almost managed. ('Almost' would turn into his word of the day, it seemed.) Then Ziva reached the slightest bit further and touched his knee, and that kept him from rolling out of the bed on the far side of it.

Such a tiny touch, two fingertips, nothing more. And yet, these two fingertips weighed heavily on him and held him in place much easier as if she'd cuffed him to the bed.

"Don't," she murmured, and he watched her cautiously, waiting for more words that never came.

"Don't what?" he replied eventually, not really sure what she was asking here, and that made her gaze flick to the side for a heartbeat.

"Don't do it in there."

His heartbeat pounded in his throat, and his mouth was suddenly dry and cottony because there was no way in hell that she had just asked him to jerk off in front of her, right? _Right?_

He tried to swallow, and her eyes dropped to his lips out of reflex. For a moment she looked lost in thought, as if she were wondering what his mouth could do besides talk a mile a minute. And that suddenly made him wonder what he _would_ do for her. Christ, to even consider this--

"I don't think so," he said with a laugh that felt even more awkward than it sounded.

And yet, even while the words still weren't done falling into the heavy silence between them, he felt his treacherous body react to the suggestion, and while his cock reared up again, the rest of his body relaxed and let go of the tension. His thighs spread, just the tiniest bit, barely noticeable under most circumstances. But since she still touched his knee, she did notice, and it made her eyes light up as sudden heat rushed through her.

"It's only fair," she purred, and there was that telltale flick of her wrist again that told him she'd just given herself a good, long stroke. 

_Ah, fuck._

His mind decided that this was as good a time as any to shut down and abandon ship. Because right then her lips parted again and her tongue flicked out, all moist tip and quick swipe, and fuck, yeah, he wanted to chase that tongue with his own until she made dirty little noises for him.

"How is that fair?" he asked while he watched her mouth in anticipation, and then he blinked, suddenly drowning in the very vivid image of those lips around his cock while he had his hands buried in her incredible hair. He ran his hand up his own thigh experimentally, letting it skim the edges of his hard-on, and her eyes followed the movement while her fingers sped up slightly. Oh yeah, she was visual, alright... "I haven't really seen anything."

Her eyes came up to meet his, and her expression was suddenly hard to read. She was pondering something he couldn't decipher, and he wondered if this would be the moment where they'd come back to their respective senses and back the hell out of this and then go back to pretending he'd never fallen asleep in the first place.

His body didn't think so, though. His hand moved up to give his cock a slow, experimental stroke through his pants, and that seemed to speed up Ziva's thought process. His eyes widened when she pulled her hand out of her pants slowly because more heat flushed her face, and suddenly he just knew she was so sensitive that it would take hardly more than a long, firm lick to make her writhe and have her hands clench in his hair.

And that thought didn't help at all, no sir.

He watched her flex her fingers slowly. Then she pulled her other hand from his knee just as slowly and grabbed the arm rests to turn the chair, just enough so it was facing the bed now. Just enough so he could see what was going on here. And fuck, yes, she had her cargos unzipped, and there was a patch of caramel skin showing where her shirt had ridden up and her fly was gaping open, and that showed smooth skin, too. The thought of licking it drove him nuts, and he pressed down on his cock as if he wanted to say, _'Easy, boy'._

She settled back in the chair now, closer, slouching this time, and while his breath hitched in his throat, she put up her foot on the edge of the mattress. (Bare foot. When had she lost her shoes?) There was a clear challenge in her eyes, and yeah, he wanted to take on that challenge, he really did. His mind was reeling while his body was a few steps further into this, roaring and ready to go, and he tried to catch up in his head while all he could think about was the light V of smooth skin he could see, looking so tempting that he wanted to rub his face against it. Slightly glistening along the path where she'd dragged her fingers out, because yeah, seemed like she--

"No panties?" he pressed out, wondering when exactly he had abandoned rational thinking in favor of need and possible satisfaction. He couldn't come up with a clear answer.

And Ziva didn't help here, really. She just slid down in the chair a bit more and let her knee drop to the side the tiniest bit, spreading her legs just enough to make his body stand at sharp attention.

"You said you could smell it," she said, and her voice rolled over his skin and gave him goose bumps while she slid her right hand back to where it had been. Her eyes fluttered halfway shut, and then she smiled for him. Her lips twitched, and that smile was different from the one she'd given him before, more intimate, as if she'd just shared a very special secret with him. (And she had. He wasn't sure how he would ever be able to pretend _not_ knowing that about her.)

"Go on, Tony," she muttered, biting her lips briefly when a fresh set of sensations sent a shudder through her body. "You want to."

And fuck, yes, she was right. He wanted to. He wanted to get off while her smell was still so thick in the air that he could almost taste her. And he wanted her to watch. And yeah, he _really_ wanted her to like what she saw, too.

She stroked herself slowly, eyes almost closing while she lost herself in the sensation, but when he put his hand to his own zipper, she snapped back to sharp attention, and her tongue flicked over her lower lip in sudden anticipation. Her fingertips stopped moving altogether when he popped the button on his pants and eased his zipper down, as if she wanted to solely concentrate on what she was about to get, and for that reason alone he made it a slow one.

He wanted to sigh in relief when he finally had the zipper down and the pressure on his cock eased up, but just then Ziva's hand jerked hard, and he almost laughed out loud at the heated impatience in her expression. Her lips twitched again, and he stroked his cock through his boxers slowly while he watched her face. Her brows drew together into a slight frown, and he couldn't help the thought that she probably wasn't even aware of how she raised her chin slightly, as if that would give her a better view.

Jesus Christ, he really was about to give it a go.

He stared at her with wide eyes, and she held his gaze, still staring at him as if this was a dare and she expected him to back out any moment now. And maybe it was that gaze that eventually made the decision for him.

He held his breath when he slid his hand into his boxers and let it out in a hiss again when his hand closed around his own flesh. Skin on skin was always something else, even if it was just his own hand.

Ziva's eyes were wide now, pupils dark as if she were on drugs, and her lips parted again in a silent gasp. And maybe she hadn't planned it that way because she still had her pants mostly on and wasn't giving him a real show, but he couldn't help it, he wanted her to see what she was getting into on his end. And fuck, yes, he wanted her to see what he liked.

He ran his hand up his stomach and shoved his shirt up because _he_ had to think about stains, after all. Going back down to his boxers was faster because by now it wasn't just Ziva getting impatient, and by the time he grabbed the elastic and shoved the boxers down with his pants, she was back to even movements and finding her rhythm. She was so eerily quiet once more, even while her eyes flicked all over his skin and almost caressed him. For a moment he felt all self-conscious and exposed and not really up to this, even though it seemed that she really liked what she saw.

But then her lips parted, and he lost his hesitation because fuck, yeah, that mouth could do wonders for him, really. He raised his hand and licked his palm, and that was it, he thought when he closed his hand around his cock again. That was just the right feel to imagine her leaning over and sucking him, and yeah, he'd probably jerk up into her mouth if she did because he was so horny by now that he couldn't take much. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to lie still because she'd be good at this, determined, like she was with most things, and she'd lick his shaft and swallow him down, and he'd... fuck...

He stroked himself faster, and Ziva matched his speed, her fingers so busy now that he really needed to see what was going on, not just the back of her hand and her fingers peeking out of her pants on every stroke. He needed more of her. And he needed to hear her, too. This silent business, this was no good, at least now that he knew what was going on.

She gave him more than he'd heard before, made these tiny gasping noises now, but she was still so quiet, so controlled, and that made his spine tingle. God, he wanted to fuck that damn composure out of her. He wanted it to be so good for her that she couldn't keep it in anymore.

He jerked himself faster, and yeah, she was getting there, he could feel it, could even smell it, and he wasn't that far behind. His left hand reached out to touch her, and when he closed his fingers around her ankle, the one she still had up on the bed, she arched up in her chair and her eyes fell shut, as if that touch had been just the last thing she needed.

"Need to hear you," he gasped, and at first she bit her lip out of reflex to keep the involuntary sound locked up inside her. But then she shuddered, and he ran his hand up her calf, saying, "Please. Do it."

She tensed even harder, and then her mouth fell open, and while he watched her, awed, so hard that his own touch was bordering on painful, she let out a low moan and jerked in the chair. And it was that moan that shot up his spine and made his skin tingle, and yeah, that was it, that was what he'd wanted to hear, so good--

He gasped, shaking when he came, suddenly, unexpectedly, drowning in sensation. And Ziva, still lost in her own touch, still coming for him (with him, really), making more sounds that left his body too aware and too sensitized and maybe, just maybe, ready to go again very soon.

He couldn't remember when he'd felt like a teenager the last time, but this? Yeah, it pretty much fit the bill.

He let his head fall back, out of breath and pulse pounding in his ears, and for a couple of minutes he just stared at the yellowing ceiling and let his eyes idly follow the cracks.

"Whoa," he muttered eventually.

Ziva gave him a soft laugh in return, all mellow and relaxed, very much like he felt himself right now. "Yes," she chuckled, and that made him turn his head and look at her. 

Damn, she looked so good. So tasty. He suddenly had to fight the urge to rub his face into her neck and suck her skin.

Reality helped, because reality wasn't all warm and soft and cuddly, reality was more like an icy draft on his skin and sticky fingers and being uncomfortable enough that he groaned and then rolled out of bed. He gave her an awkward gesture with his free hand.

"I'm gonna--" he started and then pointed at the bathroom and hoped she'd get it, and of course she did, and she nodded, still smiling, still relaxed. Still with her hand down her pants. Damn, she was going to be the death of him, if she kept that up. 

_Death by happy,_ he thought and felt the urge to grin. There sure were worse ways to go.

He was almost done in the bathroom when he heard her voice from the other room, and it was a lot more urgent than it had been all day. 

"Tony, you better clean up fast. Petty Officer Henderson is getting ready to leave."


	3. Duet

Petty Officer Henderson put up just enough of a fight to distract Tony's head. Ran first, then gave him a couple of bruises, and yeah, that was pretty much when he decided that she was the dominant part in her choice of bedroom entertainment. But then she said something nice about his hands when he held her down and he was no longer sure.

*** *** ***

Ziva didn't comment, she just slapped cuffs on Henderson and told her to shut up when she tried to argue with them. He liked it when she was all business like that, not letting any distraction come between her and her goal. 

In this case, the goal consisted of booking an offender, getting a pat on the head from Gibbs and then, finally, to go home and get some sleep. 

No, wait. Probably she'd clean up first.

Because unlike Tony she hadn't had time for a trip to the bathroom. She'd just zipped up her pants and wiped her hand on a Kleenex, and he knew all too well that wasn't enough to clear the heavy scent of arousal from her skin. 

He knew it because he could still smell her, every time she came too close or leaned into him or, worse, tapped her fingers against his shoulder to catch his attention. 

And it still drove him nuts.

*** *** ***

She realized it when she brushed her hand up his shoulder and leaned over him to point out something in his report. He suddenly had no choice but to turn his head and stare at her hand, his nostrils flaring, and when he raised his eyes after what felt like ages, he saw that her face suddenly looked flushed and her own eyes were dark and wide. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and for a heartbeat her lips parted in almost-shock. A tiny tremble ran through her, and he must have stared at her in a way that told her loud and clear how close he was to ripping off her pants and throwing her across his desk while he screamed a hallelujah in the face of Rule Number Twelve.

He wanted to lick her so bad. Suck on her fingers and taste her, and then run his tongue up her arm and smell her neck and maybe suck on her perfect little tits until she made that sound for him again. The one that sounded like she was halfway out of her mind with lust.

He watched her close her mouth and swallow hard before she turned her head away, and for a moment he wasn't sure what that meant. If she was uncomfortable with what she had just seen. If she thought that, maybe, it would be easier to forget this shiny little interlude straight out of a porn fantasy had actually happened.

Then she straightened her back, and he saw how her nipples suddenly strained against her shirt, hard and, oh yes, highly interested in the way Tony had just looked at his partner.

That didn't make it any better.

*** *** ***

She didn't back off after that, even though he could tell she tried to keep her distance. To treat this cautiously professional and not let it get in the way of their job. He could also tell that her pulse fluttered whenever he came too close or leaned into her just like he had done for years. And he felt his own body spring to instant attention whenever she leaned back against him out of habit or touched him fleetingly or even just licked her lips.

It was torture, really. Delicious, mind-numbing torture that left him all itchy and at some points of the evening half hard, and god, he'd be so screwed if she ever found out how easily she could lead him around by his dick. Literally, maybe. Or -- well, not.

By the time Gibbs told them to go home he was fidgeting worse than back when his dad had dragged him to the fitting for his very first suit, and he rubbed his face and groaned in delight at the thought of a cold shower to rinse away the temptation.

Or maybe a hot shower and a lot of soapy suds, to help ease the pressure.

That was pretty much the moment when he realized that his car was still parked at the crime scene. And Ziva had just offered to drive him home.

*** *** ***

Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel whenever she stopped at a red light (and yes, she actually stopped at most of them, for a change).

He only watched her out of the corner of his eye because yeah, he knew why _he_ was nervous, but despite the occasional looks she gave him, he still wasn't sure what she would do if he were to reach over now and shove his hand into her pants and get her off while the light turned green and red and green again. And he was afraid that once he looked at her straight on, that was exactly the thing he would try to do. 

Because watching her come had thrown a big fat monkey wrench in his grand scheme of all things partnershippy. Had turned his tiny, well-structured, friends-only world upside down and left him yearning and aching for the anarchy and madness of desire.

He turned his head to watch her profile after all, and his breathing quickened when she let the engine roar and ignored the next red light.

*** *** ***

She kept her hands on the wheel after she had parked the car, and Tony licked his lips and watched her stare straight ahead and not meet his eyes. His fingers itched to reach out for her and grab her neck, but in the end he just said, "I think we need to talk."

Ziva turned her head and met his eyes for the first time since they had left the Yard.

"It's not talking we need to do," she said, took her keys and got out of the car.

Tony blinked, and while he watched her wander off, he found that he lacked the words and the will to object. And so he merely got out of the car and trailed after her while he let anarchy wash over him.

*** *** ***

He didn't say anything while she waited for him to open the door. He didn't trust his voice enough. Not when Ziva had just implied she may be willing to fuck his brains out just to get him out of her system. (He knew it worked for some guys, but this was a fresh perspective.)

He was quiet the whole time Ziva ran her eyes all over him and watched his hands fumble with the keys until he almost dropped them. And he didn't comment -- _god, no_ \-- when Ziva eventually reached out and tapped two fingertips to the back of his hand.

"You want me to..." she started, and then her voice trailed off because it seemed too big a thing to put into words after all.

He breathed in and out slowly. Stared at her hand, still touching him. Confusing him. 

Except... well, not. 

On some level things suddenly seemed a lot clearer. And so Tony turned his head and met her eyes while he turned the key in the lock. "I got it," he said, and her eyes flared up in sudden heat. It was an unexpected reaction, and it raised a sharp pang of lust inside him in return.

He held the door open for her, and for a moment the sandalwood scent of her shampoo was in his nose when she brushed past him. Then she climbed the stairs up to his floor, and he couldn't help staring at her perfect ass. So unreachable before, and now, now she was suddenly flaunting it in his face and he was already half hard from the mere thought that she'd allow him some touching.

God, he seriously hoped he hadn't gotten the wrong vibe and all she really wanted was a coffee.

*** *** ***

She toed off her shoes two steps into his apartment, and that probably was a good indicator it wasn't coffee she had come up for. Her hands opened the tight knot of her hair, and she made a tiny sound of relief while she shook her curls out and spread them around her shoulders. 

Tony watched her quietly and then loosened his tie because he could get away with that whatever the next few minutes would bring. He couldn't stop thinking about fucking her. His pulse suddenly did unhealthy things, and with each step Ziva took, with each sway of her hips it got worse.

She didn't turn to look at him. He tried to breathe slowly when she went straight to the kitchen and came back with the bottle of vodka he kept in the freezer for emergencies. He was still silent while she took two shot glasses from the sideboard and poured a good splash of vodka into both.

By the time she turned around to face him with a glass in each hand, he had caught up with her, and for a heartbeat her eyes widened when she suddenly found him close enough to touch. Then she found her footing again and handed him one glass while she knocked the other back unceremoniously. And just like that, Tony found himself staring at her throat, watching her swallow. Wondering what it would feel like if she swallowed around his cock like that.

God, this was killing him already. He should have never even started thinking about it. This was leading somewhere dangerous, and he really shouldn't--

"So are we gonna...?" He lost the half-formed word and couldn't say it out loud after all. Couldn't ask his partner after so many years if she'd like to fuck him, even though the need to know almost singed his tongue off.

Ziva, apparently, felt even less verbal than he did. She just nodded sharply and put her shot glass down on the sideboard. And this was it, he thought and stared at her neck. This was the moment where the incredibly hot woman with the most amazing tush he'd ever had the privilege to ogle had confirmed that yes, she would like to fuck him, just because the mere thought had proven to be too much of a distraction for her. He knocked his own glass back, then sat it down hard and reached for the bottle. There was no way he could get through this one sober. (And maybe that was a pretty smart idea. That way he could blame it all on a drunken fantasy when they went back to business as usual tomorrow.)

He hadn't counted on the movement bringing him closer to Ziva. 

There was no reason it should matter, really. Up until now, physical closeness had never made a difference between them. But now, now he suddenly felt her breath against his neck and the rush of heat coming from her body and, most of all, the way she didn't pull back, but leaned into him in return. And suddenly his whole weight seemed to rest on the grip he had on that damn bottle. His fingers cramped around the neck, and his left hand, dangling at his side, clenched while he turned his head a bit. Ziva's lips hovered just above the over-excited pulse in his neck, and he stared at her out of the corner of his eye. Part of him desperately wanted to move and close the tiny bit of distance still left between them, but for some reason he couldn't. Too much like a goddamn ocean after all. Too hard to dip his toes into the waves when he wasn't sure yet he wouldn't drown.

Then Ziva raised her hand and touched his side, just above his waist, and that touch was so different from the ones they'd shared before that he reeled from it. Because they touched a hundred times a week, always, constantly, not caring about it one way or the other, but this -- this was deliberate. Not to get his attention or to slap him after a tasteless joke or to rile him up. This, the way she had her hand run up his body slowly now, with the heat from her palm scorching him through his shirt... this was because she _wanted_ to touch him.

The little puffs of her breath against his skin came faster suddenly, and yeah, he got it, his own pulse had turned into a stuttering jackhammer, too. He turned his head a little further, just so her lips wouldn't brush his skin after all.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he pressed out and tried to fight down the mad rush of lust that insisted it was the best ever. It wasn't. There was no way in hell sex with Ziva could be good. (Okay, so technically it would be _very_ good, possibly bordering on awesome. Just not the stuff that came afterwards.)

He waited for her to agree and back away. Waited with her scent in his nose and her heat radiating off her and his dick so hard that he could have hammered a nail in with it right now.

She never pulled back, though. Her hand just moved a bit higher, and her left came up to his chest. A flick of her thumb opened the top button of his shirt, and Tony almost gasped at the sensation of her fingertips against his skin.

"Your body likes it," she murmured, and he laughed shakily and put his hand over hers to stop her exploration.

"Yeah, well," he said, and his voice was strained enough to make more heat flare up in Ziva's eyes. God, this wasn't helping with the being rational. "My two heads disagree most of the time."

She still didn't back away, and her hand stayed against his chest, and god, this was _hard._ Because he really wanted her. Because she felt good, and she smelled good, and she suddenly pressed up against him, complete with her thigh sliding against his and her lips finally brushing his skin and sending a shower of goose bumps all over him.

"Tony," she breathed out, and his name was a caress against his neck. (Not helping. At all.) "I've seen you." And he knew she was talking about his dick now, and that sent his brain on shore leave and made said dick strain painfully against his pants.

And Ziva, Ziva noticed his reaction, of course. Felt his breathing turn labored and his heart hammer away against her palm. She freed her hand from his grip gently and let her fingertips trail through his chest hair while she opened another button. "I don't want to spend the next five years wondering what you could do for me."

He closed his eyes, and that was a mistake because he suddenly had the most vivid image of her arching up in that wicker chair, with her lips trembling and her face all sweaty. 

She opened yet another button, and this time he didn't object. His hand came up to her hip, grasping her, and he honestly couldn't remember making that decision. But he felt her shudder in suddenly skyrocketing anticipation, and when his own fingertips traveled underneath her shirt and touched her skin, she let out a tiny hiss. She even lost track of her own exploration for a moment as she concentrated on Tony sliding his fingers up higher, skimming her ribcage until he reached the soft curve of her breast. His dick twitched almost painfully when he realized she wore no underwear at all.

Ziva held her breath, waiting for what he would do now. Waited for him to cup her breast and maybe rub her nipple, to be all impatient and to rip her clothes off because this was how things would be between them, right? 

And yeah, he wanted to do that. He couldn't wait to be inside her. But there was no way in hell he would rush this. It had to last him a few years, after all.

He moved his fingertips, just let them dance across her skin a little. It was barely a caress at all, but it was enough to make Ziva gasp as if she'd been shocked. Her body arched into him involuntarily, and the sudden tension brought a slight shudder with it. Her eyelids fluttered halfway shut, and then she turned the slightest bit and tried to push her breast into his palm. And oh, yeah, he got the hint, got it loud and clear. He still pulled his hand back, and she made a frustrated little sound deep in her throat that left him throbbing hard.

"How sure are you about this?" he asked while he trailed his fingertips down her side until he reached the relatively safe zone of her pants.

Ziva's eyes snapped open, and yeah, it was sheer idiocy to ask this. To give her an easy out while she was pressing her hips against his cock and tried to ride him. He couldn't help it, though. It was too important to have her look at him in the morning without regretting it. He could get cheap thrills everywhere, but he only had one Ziva.

She stared at him for a few endless moments, and part of him waited for the other shoe to drop and her to back off, after all. Then she licked her lips and moved her hands -- not to stop touching him, but to quickly open the remaining buttons of his shirt and pull it out of his pants until she could run her hands down his chest and then hook a finger behind his belt. He stared at her with his lips parting, but no words coming out, and Ziva raised her chin and looked at him almost stubbornly. A smile made the corners of her mouth twitch, and it looked like it meant she was really, _really_ sure and wanted some candy now, thank you very much.

"Raise your arms," he murmured, and her eyes darkened as his words sank in. There was more fire in her eyes now, but some part of him still waited for her to object, to go back to the same game they had played for years with each other. The kind of game that never leads anywhere, except one step forward and two steps back.

But this time Ziva didn't step back, and she didn't object. His cock twitched hard when her eyelids fluttered and she raised her arms above her head. She moved slowly, inch by inch, and his breathing quickened at the very deliberate way she obeyed him. 

"Good," he muttered and ran his hand up her side again. He finally let go of the vodka bottle and slipped his right hand under her shirt, too. She gasped when he cupped her breast, and for a second he wasn't sure if it was the sensory overload or the lingering cold from the glass that made her nipple poke hard into his palm. Then she arched into him, and he licked his lips because he could feel the sudden, heated way her body reacted to his touch. He literally felt it, felt her heat erupt against his thigh as her hips pressed into him. His dick screamed to just give her what she wanted, to let her ride him, just like that, because it would be so, so good. It turned into an almost painful effort to stick to the slow pace, especially when she shuddered and her head fell back while she moaned for him. But yeah, it would be worth it. He was pretty sure about that.

He tightened his grip and rubbed her nipple between his fingers, all stiff and excited and so very sensitive that he had to force himself to let go of her so he could get her out of her shirt. She breathed out in a rush when he grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, and yeah, he got it. He got the excitement about the sudden nakedness and hands touching new places and things actually going somewhere.

She kept her arms over her head even after he dropped her shirt carelessly, as if she were unsure what to do now. Or maybe she was waiting for more instructions. (And that was a thought that _killed_ him right there because his fantasies instantly went into overdrive, even while he had her standing right in front of him and being real.)

He touched her elbows and traced slow lines down her arms, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Tension coiled her muscles, and the minute trembling that ran through her told him she tried really hard to stay still and go with his pace. The thought turned his breathing into harsh little pants while she shuddered under his hands and bit her lip and then rubbed her thigh against his to urge him on a little. _Oh fuck, yeah, like that, baby._

"You're incredible," he pressed out and stared at her, his eyes running all over her and following the path of his hands. His pulse pounded harder, and she rewarded him with a tiny gasp, her head falling back when he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her pants. He popped the button, and she moaned, a rugged sound that tore through his resolve and made him press against her after all. For a moment he felt dizzy from the sensation of having her naked against his chest.

"Seriously," he murmured into her neck and ran his lips over her skin. "You are..."

And just like that he, the one who never stopped talking, ran out of words. 

It took Ziva a moment to notice the switch in his mood. He watched her open her eyes and bite her lip, and he knew he probably looked like a fool, staring at her like this, but right then he couldn't help it, he could only look at her with astonishment rippling through him at the lust swirling in her eyes. He wasn't sure he deserved this.

He drew back, and she looked like she was about to protest, but the words died in her throat when he went down on his knees in front of her. She licked her lips and watched him look at her, and while she slowly lowered her arms, he pulled her zipper down.

"Tony," she murmured, and he knew she wanted to say something. She didn't have the words for it, though, and since he didn't know what to say either he just leaned forward and brushed his lips along the soft curve of her belly.

It was tempting to suck her flesh, to lick her and roll her taste around on his tongue until he was dizzy with it, but to his own surprise he found that he couldn't do that. Not when this was just to screw each other until they had it out of their system. Not when he'd wake up in the morning to only a memory of her taste. It seemed safer to do it like this, to keep this a simple touch, not too intimate, not too different from the ones they usually shared. Except this time there were less clothes involved.

He dragged her pants down her hips and let his lips follow the path he exposed, and Ziva shuddered again and put her hands to his shoulders now, maybe to steady herself, maybe to grab a feel of him. He ran his mouth along the soft curve of her hip, and she gasped and held on tight, her fingers clenching around his shoulders. 

God, he wanted to lick her so bad.

Her breath came in short, harsh bursts by the time he had peeled her out of her pants, and he had to stop, had to lean his forehead against her belly for just a second and concentrate on what he was doing here. Or trying to do, rather. But then he closed his eyes, and that didn't make it any better, it just made him notice her intoxicating scent more, close, so close to his mouth, so tempting. Close enough that he could press his lips to her easily and suck her until she'd tremble and her legs would give, and maybe she'd scream for him, just a little. Or tear at his hair while she came.

And that was something he'd never be able to forget.

He drew back and looked at her, and whatever he'd been trying to do here, however hard he'd tried to distance himself from this and just do it and not think about the fact that it was really _Ziva_ he was doing it to -- this was the moment where he failed. Where he met her eyes and saw the raw hunger and insane fire swirling there and found that this was not something he could distance himself from. Never could, really. He'd just forgotten for a moment that this was as personal as it could get.

And Ziva swallowed hard now because she'd just realized the same, but before she could pull back and decide this was a bad idea after all, he was on his feet again. His hands grabbed her, and she gasped when he pulled her up his body until she sat on the sideboard, all naked and horny and with her legs spread for him. Her hands tore at his clothes madly all of a sudden, ripping his belt open, unzipping him, and he laughed and told her to be careful. God, she was so deliciously impatient. And then she had her hand down his pants and stroked him, pulled him closer, and fuck, yeah, he didn't mind that, he didn't care at all that right now she just wanted him to get her off.

"Ziva," he groaned, and she raised her head and held his gaze while her hands pushed his pants down just enough to free him, just enough to get him inside her, and ohfuckgod that wasn't what he'd expected, that wasn't sane and controlled at all, that was wet heat and insanity and mad lust stampeding all over his senses instead, burning him up until he couldn't think anymore, could only shove deeper into her and listen to her moans and feel the way she wrapped her legs around him.

He pressed out a curse through gritted teeth and leaned over her, and that was when she closed her eyes and her head fell back and she arched into him, shuddering all over. He watched her lips move, watched that tempting mouth press out silent words he didn't understand. And suddenly he couldn't help it, couldn't fight the urge anymore, couldn't keep this on the friendly and uncomplicated side of things any longer because it wasn't. It had never been.

She moaned into his mouth when he kissed her, and then she froze in his arms. Her heart hammered against his chest, and he waited for her to get it, to realize this was suddenly more than mere fucking. It took her longer than he had thought it would, and he almost wanted to pull back then and stop making this complicated and maybe even let go of her so they could both come to their senses again. But he couldn't, really. Couldn't stop sucking her beautiful mouth and couldn't stop pushing his tongue between those tempting lips and, most of all, couldn't stop tasting her because it was simply too good. So much better than he had imagined it to be. Almost better than being inside her was.

Then her nails dug into his neck, and he groaned and tried to tear his mouth from hers after all, only to realize she didn't let him. Her thighs tightened around his hips, and yeah, her tongue chased his now until he was breathless and lightheaded and strung up in the most delicious form of madness. And no, this wasn't quite what he had planned and most likely not what she had planned, either, but he really couldn't help it. He needed it to be like this.

*** *** ***

He wasn't quite sure what to do, now that they seemed done. Maybe there was some kind of protocol that covered the proper behavior after fucking your partner senseless on a goddamn sideboard, but if there was, Tony DiNozzo had no idea what it involved.

Right now, all he could think about was how he felt Ziva's thighs tremble as she tried to keep them wrapped around his hips. He wasn't sure if that was really because she wanted to keep him inside her or if she was -- like him -- merely scared shitless of letting go now. Because letting go would have meant facing each other instead. Looking at each other and dealing with this. And they had never been really good at that sort of thing.

Seconds ticked away between them, and eventually he sighed, let his head fall forward and pressed his mouth to her neck. He'd already failed at keeping his distance, after all, and if they had ruined it all with one round of mad sex now, he might as well try to get some really good memories out of it.

A soft shudder ran through her when he licked her neck. For a moment he thought she'd shove him back now and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. (He'd have smiled and told her something about fucking and thinking not mixing too well.) But she didn't push him away. She arched into his touch a little more instead, and then she turned her head and ran her lips along his jaw and let her tongue flick out to taste him, too.

"That didn't really help," she murmured, and heat rushed through him at the sound of her voice, all soft and intimate and relaxed against his cheek. Playful. Affectionate, even.

God, she'd liked this just as much as he had.

"Yeah," he mumbled back and grazed her neck with his teeth until he felt goose bumps march down her back. When he pulled back to meet her eyes, he found that she didn't look at him like this had been such a bad idea after all, and for some reason he couldn't fight the grin that suddenly wanted to split his face. "Wanna try again?"

Her thighs tightened around him some more, and yeah, that was fresh heat flaring up in her eyes in response. 

Look at that. Maybe he hadn't screwed this one up yet. Maybe they wouldn't regret it in the morning.


End file.
